Patience
by damienne is dead
Summary: Integra talks to a block of cement about memories she hopes she'll have again, fingers grazing its cold surface as one would the cheek of a lover. Request fic.


Integra talks to a block of cement about memories she hopes she'll have again, fingers grazing its cold surface as one would the cheek of a lover. RequestFic.

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><p>"<em>I love no one but you, I have discovered, but you are far away and I am here alone. Then this is my life and maybe, however unlikely, I'll find my way back there. Or maybe, one day, I'll settle for second best. And on that same day, hell will freeze over, the sun will burn out and the stars will fall from the sky<em>." - Lemony Snicket.

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><p>You might call yourself a monster, and I might sit back and listen as you do, but you are more human in a way that I cannot comprehend. You don't lie, and you don't feel the need to hide your feelings - people know when you are upset or depressed or happy. When you aren't trying to terrify people, it's easy for you to befriend them. You could be friendly and charming when you needed to in a way that I never could. It was a trait of yours that I always wished I had.<p>

But you are a _glutton_. Why couldn't you have put off your hunger for a little bit longer? On that night...you didn't even come to make sure I was okay first. He shot me, you know - the Major. I lost my eye to his bullet. As if my vision itself wasn't bad enough already, my depth perception is off now. Sometimes, you can be so unbelievably _stupid_ I can't even comprehend it.

But I know, deep down, that there isn't much I can do about it. I'm sure that the Major would have found a way to use his lap dog against you one way or another. That in no way means I am not angry with you, though.

When Seras and I returned home, we went down to the sub levels to your old room. Do you realize how disgusting it smells down there? Even to my weak, human senses, it _reeks_. But I still stayed down there, and she stayed with me too, until the smell became too much for her. I poured myself a glass of wine and allowed myself to cry out loud for the first time that night.

I was so _angry_ with you. I was absolutely _enraged_. Oh, by the way, when you come back you might find that your coffin has a sizable crack in it. That was courtesy of my fist. I knew how upset it would have made you, but I wanted you to feel all of the anguish and pain that I felt. Perhaps it was foolish, but I won't apologize. I _refuse _to.

The other Knights have been on my back again. Some time after you left, I was even set up on a few blind dates. They just don't get the message. I know they mean well, of course, but I wonder how long it will take them to realize that I am just not interested. It is the fate of Hellsing to die when I do - an heir is unnecessary.

I am grateful to Pip. When he hears them plotting something, he always finds a creative way to use his shadows to terrify them. Once, much to Seras' chagrin, he cast the entire conference room in complete darkness and locked the doors, leaving them to run around in a blind craze, searching for a way out.

Pip Bernadotte thinks I should get a dog. He thinks that having a pet will allow me to take my mind off of things and give me something to do while I'm not working. A load of trite that is - despite the lack of vampires running around, I am _always _working on something. Seras agrees with him, too. She won't admit it, but I can tell.

I never hated Seras, you know. There was...some jealously when she first came in, I suppose. I am not blind, nor am I unnecessarily proud, and I won't deny the way I felt at the time, but I never disliked her. She gets on my nerves occasionally - just as everyone does - but she's a sweet girl. She is the last shred of light I have in my life, I think. She knows how to cheer me up and she's even learned how to make my favorite tea better than _you_ can.

And she has your eyes.

They are not exactly the same, no. Hers still have that youthful innocence that I don't think will ever leave her, and sometimes, Pip's green reflects in them, but the smoldering red of your eyes is still there, reminding me of what is gone.

I know I said that I'd wait for you forever, but there are lines on my face and silver strands in my hair. I am getting older and older and older, and today I even felt back pain for the first time in my life. Please come home soon.

I am still smoking. No matter how bad it is for me, it's one of the few pleasures I have nowadays.

You never really had a problem with me smoking, did you? If you did, you never voiced it like Walter and Sir Pemwood did.

Do you remember the first time I smoked a cigar? I was fourteen. I thought it would make me seem more mature and that people would stop making calling me 'little girl,' so I stole one from Sir Irons when he wasn't looking. You had to show me how to light it. When I finally perfected that, you told me how to take a puff out of it. You neglected to tell me not to inhale the smoke though, so I spent a good five minutes hacking out my lungs while you tried to hide your roaring laughter.

I had strep throat for a few days after that.

You never left my bedside.

You left your red cravat here.

Now when I sleep I leave it draped over my headboard. I reach my hand up every now and then to touch it. It always feels so cold. Sometimes, I wonder if a part of you is still attached to it and watches over me while I sleep. If that were true, then you probably watch me while I undress, too. I wouldn't put it past you, you _repressed deviant_.

Why did you have to leave? Sometimes I can feel a presence but I don't know what it is. I am haunted in my dreams of the image of you and your helpless face when you disappeared. You say your farewell to me - only to me - and then I wake up with a start, my outstretched hand reaching blindly in the darkness for something I may never touch again, gripping the air so tightly that my nails dig into my trembling palms until blood drips from the wounds.

You will come back, won't you? And we can be together again, right? Sometimes, I lose faith in the comfort of being able to see your smile again. Those are the days when the police girl's comforting words fall on def ears and I want nothing more than to be alone in the warmth of my bed, looking up at your scarlet cravat.

But no matter what I may think sometimes, I know in my heart you'll return to my side. Until then, I will reminisce of a time not too far - never within my grasp, but the closest thing to you I'll have - your ecstatic grin, your ever-present sadomasochism, your grand build and that wild hair, and the way your cold tongue felt against my fingertips. That last part was always a little uncomfortable for me, but maybe when your moist lips and sharp teeth glided across my digits I couldn't breathe for a reason other than knowing the risks of allowing you to drink from me. I never thought I would miss that part, but I do.

I miss everything about you, you damned _fool_.


End file.
